A Slender Situation
by littlefallenseraph
Summary: When on a hunt for a previously undiscovered monster, Sam and Dean find themselves shot into the popular video game, Minecraft. Written for fun by my boyfriend. Rated T for language.
1. Sam

Sam sat in the grand library of the bunker that had once belonged to the Men of Letters. His computer was open and running a filter through the national news. So far three stories had filtered through the Internet's database of all the daily news. Sam quickly glanced at each of them, but each article was from some tabloid, and they didn't sound all that credible to begin with.

"Alright Sammy, eat up!" Sam looked up to see Dean bringing out two thick, juicy burgers. The cheese was perfectly melted and still steaming, and the tomato looked as fresh as if they'd grown it in a backyard somewhere and plucked it off the vine that morning.

Sam had been impressed with Dean's ability to cook when he'd first made these burgers. However, he soon discovered that burgers were the only things Dean knew how to cook. Surprisingly, Sam was actually beginning to miss the quick, cheep, disgusting meals that he'd grown accustom to over the years.

Dean set the plate with the burger net to Sam's computer. "I'll tell ya, Sammy, cooking like this makes me wish we'd had a real kitchen our whole lives." Dean sat down across from Sam, burger in hand. He took a huge bite out of the burger, his eyes rolling back inside his head as grease and juices squirted out the other side. Moaning, Dean opened his eyes, looked at Sam and mumbled something unintelligible.

If Sam had an appetite before, watching the grease from Dean's burger drip down his fingers had made him lose it. Sam looked down at the burger, picking at the bun slightly. At this point, the only thing that looked remotely appetizing about the burger was the tomato. Lifting off the bun, Sam took the tomato off of the melted cheese and began to nibble at it. Dean was too busy gorging himself to notice that Sam wasn't interested in the burger.

By this time, the filter Sam had programmed into his computer had popped out another news report. Sam opened the story, still nibbling at the tomato, and began to read the important pieces of the article. As he got deeper into the article, he began to sit up straighter.

"Dean, I think we might have a job," Sam said setting his tomato down on top of the burger.

Dean looked up from his burger to glare at Sam. There was a long silence as Dean chewed his burger slowly. Finally, he swallowed. "Is this going to become a thing? Because it feel like it's becoming a thing."

Sam looked at him, confusion clearly showing on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Every time I make these kick ass burgers, you find a job preventing me from enjoying them." Dean dropped the burger on his plate, wiped his mouth, and then proceeded to wipe his hands on his pants. He stood up and walked over to Sam. "Alright. What do we have?"

Sam enlarged the article and turned the computer so Dean could see the screen better. "As of last night, five children have disappeared around Dubuque, Iowa. Now here's where it gets weird: before they disappeared, their parents reported that their kids were having nightmares about a tall, skinny figure, and they all had an imaginary friend that they all called 'Him.' No name otherwise."

Dean shrugged. "I'm all for helping kids, Sammy, but this sounds more like coincidence than our kinda thing."

Sam scrolled back up the article to the headline and photo associated with the story. "Well, Garth doesn't seem to share that point of view." Sam leaned back and looked up at Dean as he was looking at the picture. It was a black and white photo of the police talking with the family of the missing child. The mother and father were in the foreground talking with the local police, but there was a little boy in the background, perhaps a brother. The boy wasn't talking with the local police though, instead he was talking to a man in some out-of-place cowboy gear… with a sock on his hand.

"Does Garth realize there are no Texas Rangers in Iowa?" Dean paused and Sam shrugged. Sam saw Dean looking closer at the photo. "I hate Mr. Fizzles," was all he had to say.

* * *

Dean was ready before Sam, but that was how it usually went. By the time Sam had gathered the things he needed, he found Dean fiddling with some lever in the control room of the bunker. "What are you doing?" Sam asked as he watched Dean tug at the same lever, putting all of his weight into it.

"We know the angels have fallen. There's no need for this damn machine to keep reminding us." Dean gave another tug, grunting as he did so, but it was of no use. "I just wanted to turn it off."

Sam approached, looking at the lever and the machine Dean had fiddled with. "We don't even know what this machine does yet, so you decided to push some buttons and pull some levers?"

Grunting, Dean pulled at the lever again. "Yeah, except this one got jammed." Dean pulled again, except this time, after the sweat from his palms had thoroughly greased the handle, he lost his grip and fell flat on his back. Enraged, Dean stood up, picking up the nearest cup of pens and pencils and threw it at the machine. "Damn it!" Dean yelled, his shouts echoing off the bunker walls: _Dammitdammitdammitdammit_. Dean looked at Sam, infuriated. "Would you give it a shot?"

Sam set his bags down and raised his hands. "Yeah, let me see." He walked over to the console as Dean stepped aside, kicking the pens and pencils that had tumbled to the floor out of his way. He sat on the edge of a table as he watched Sam.

Eying the machine, Sam put on hand on the lever and pulled. Nothing. Putting two hands on the lever, Sam pulled again. Nothing. This time, Sam put one hand on the lever and one on the console, but before he could pull, a long light flashed down his palm as if it were scanning his hand. Sam jumped and pulled his hand away. "What was that?" He shouted, looking to Dean.

He sat on the table with his arms crossed, watching Sam. Shrugging, he stood up. "No idea. Same thing happened to me though. That's some weird technology for the '50s."

Sam held his hand, concerned about what had just happened. "Yeah, it is… but…" He let his hand drop. "The Men of Letters did have a lot of secrets."

"You think that this technology could have been one of those secrets?"

Sam backed away from the machine and picked up his bags. "Maybe. Either way, we don't know how this machine works. When we get back from Iowa, I'll find a users manual or something and take a look at it."

Dean walked over to the console, grabbing the bag he'd packed. Looking over the machine, he said, "Alright Sammy, I'll let you nerd out on it later." He kicked the console, shouldered his bag, and headed for the exit where the Impala was waiting for them outside.


	2. Charlie

"As Odrik pulls on the chain, the dragon loses the competition, crashing to the ground as Odrik yanks the chain with all his might. The dust settles and the black dragon raises its head. You see blood dripping from its mouth and eyes. Its wings are broken and you can tell the dragon is losing strength.

"But is a dragon, and a proud one at that, you know it will never stop fighting until you die or it dies. Head raised, it opens its mouth toward Odrik. Blood dripping, you see from the back of its throat bubbling acid and you know it's about to use its breath weapon."

Charlie jumped to attention in her seat. This was he time. "I use my readied action!" She shouted, looking directly at the Dungeon Master.

The Dungeon Master smiled. Charlie knew he was used to this. She was always very enthusiastic, and when it came to Dungeons and Dragons, Charlie was in the zone. "Alright, Charlie, what does Danilynn the Battlemind do?"

This was her moment. Judging by the description her friend Zane, the Dungeon Master, had given them the dragon was near death. And about time too. The party had to go through a hundred different skill challenges and encounters to get to this point. And now, if everything worked as planned, she could kill this dragon and save the world… for a time of course.

Charlie bit her lower lip, eyes darting over her character sheet, her fingers rolled her twenty-sided die around her hand. She still had her most powerful daily attack that she'd saved for exactly this moment. "Closing my eyes, I clear my head and regain my focus. Opening my eyes again, I charge the dragon, weaving past Odrik."

"Roll an acrobatics check."

Charlie closed her eyes, holding back a sigh of exasperation. She should have seen this coming. If she failed this check, she would either ram straight into Odrik the dwarf or tumble to the ground, losing all her other actions. Opening her eyes again, Charlie began to shake her hand, preparing to roll the die. Just as she learned, Charlie rolled it hard against the table, allowing it to slam into the edge of a notebook, bouncing off and finally landing on the number six. Was it high enough? She hoped so. Zane looked at the die, looked at the reference sheet to his players skills, made a note, looked up at Charlie, and said: "You successfully weave by Odrik. Continue."

Despite having to make the skill check, she was still in the zone. "Weaving by Odrik, I shift the weight of my warhammer, preparing to swing. With my head clear, I use the power of my mind to begin to turn my arm then my hand then my hammer into stone. My charge leads me straight to the dragon's open mouth. Right before I step into its jaws, I swing my hammer upward putting the psionic force emanating from my mind into the swing." By now, Charlie was standing, hands on the table, looking straight into Zane's eyes. Afterward, she would reflect that perhaps she'd gone a little overboard but would later shrug it off because the rest of the party was as enthusiastic.

Zane was smiling. He straightened up, put his arms on the table and simply said: "Roll your attack." Charlie was ready before he'd even said anything. She snatched up her D20 and rolled it as violently as she had before. As the die flew out of her hand, she clenched her hand and prayed to science: _Chaos Theory, don't fail me now…._ All night she'd been rolling poorly, rolling three critical fails at key moments when she needed successes. If her luck had stopped existing, she'd likely roll another critical fail. But if she was lucky, and Chaos Theory was on her side the time, she would succeed her attack, even if it was just barely.

Charlie watched the die as it tumbled around the table. It began to roll more slowly until it finally stopped… landing on a twenty, a critical hit. She couldn't contain her excitement. She jumped up and down, jostling the table, knocking over miniatures, and causing dice of all kinds to jump and roll. No one minded though, the rest of her party was as excited.

Zane though, sat with his arms crossed, smiling. He was the kind of Dungeon Master that was proud of his players' achievements. Once the party had calmed down, he uncrossed his arms. "Max damage, so you would deal…?"

This was unexpected. Charlie had been prepared to roll damage so she had to do the math quickly in her head. "That would be… a hundred and four damage."

The party cheered. There was no way that the dragon could survive that blow. Zane raised his eyebrows, his smile disappearing. "Damn Charlie!" He looked down at the _Monster Manual_ he was using as a reference and stifled a chuckle. "Well, you killed it." He settled down, composed himself, and continued as the Dungeon Master. "Your hammer, with it layer of stone, slams into the roof of the dragon's mouth. With all the strength you put behind the blow, your hammer explodes through the top of the dragon's skull. Before the dragon topples over, dead, you manage to pull yourself and the hammer out of the dragon's mouth." The party began to cheer again, but Zane continued before they got too loud. "As the dragon falls to the ground, you all begin to hear some cracking followed by tiny squeaks. Looking around, you realize where you are: a dragon's nest, and the eggs are hatching.

"And that is where we'll end tonight. We'll pick it up again next week."

As usual, the party lingered at Charlie's apartment for awhile after the session ended, discussing what had happened and what they might do next time, After the rest of the players had left, Zane stuck around. Charlie knew why, but she couldn't give him what he wanted. She already had a girlfriend… or something. And she could only love one man. Thinking about him made her sad. Was he still alive? She was too afraid to find out.

"It's still pretty early into the night. What are your plans? I was gonna get some dinner if you want to join me." Charlie had to smile at his attempt to ask her on a date. She knew that Zane knew she had a girlfriend, but that never stopped him from trying. At least he was nice.

"Thanks Zane, but D&D always wears me out. I think I'll just order Chinese and play some video games."

Zane simply smiled and looked down. "I understand. Maybe next time." Looking up again, he gave her a wink and stepped out into the hallway. Charlie was holding the door open to see him out. "See you next week."

"Next week," she smiled at his wink. Charlie watched him walk down the hallway to the exit. As he turned the corner, she closed the door.

It took a little while to clean up. All the players left their Dungeons and Dragons stuff with her because they all met at her place to play. After she put away all the books, dice, and miniatures, she sat down at her computer. After an intense session like that one had been, she had no wish to play a complicated videogame, but she had no desire to play a mind numbing shooter either. Charlie wanted to be creative, to build a world all her own. She wanted a game like Minecraft.

But all she did was continue staring at the desktop of her Macbook Air. She sighed. The world she'd put so much effort into on Minecraft had begun to bore her. Charlie was in the mood for something new, something fun. That's when she thought of the only man she could love, her best friend: Dean Winchester. Thinking of him made her sad again. She hadn't heard from the Winchesters in awhile. If only she could be with them, or at least feel close to them. Charlie had read all of Carver Edlund's books that had been practically a Sam and Dean Winchester biography. That had made her feel closer to them.

She sat back and thought about that for a moment. _Perhaps…._ Charlie sat up, a little happier after the idea she'd had. She pulled up her search engine she and Sam had programmed, and searched the world for a Minecraft Mod based off of Carver Edlund's _Supernatural_ books. That would help her feel a little better… maybe.

It took hours for Charlie to find something due to how small of a fan base _Supernatural_ had, but she did find something. This mod had no pictures, but great descriptions of monsters that she may face and the two non-player characters the mod provided: Sam and Dean.

After a little research, Charlie decided that this was not a false mod filled with viruses. It was coded somewhere in Kansas, which made her laugh since that is where Dean and Sam were born. She decided this mod was safe and clicked download. A window popped up indicating the download was taking place and gave an estimated download time of twenty minutes. So Charlie sat back and waited.


	3. Dean

As much as Dean liked having his own room, this was his real home, this was where he belonged: in the Impala. Dean grew up in this car and despite all that had happened to him, all the family feuds, all the wrecks, and all of the close encounters, fond memories in this car would always prevail. He knew Sam didn't share these feelings, but he also knew that Sam still loved the Impala all the same. It was in this car that Sam and Dean would bond the best despite the fights, however harsh or unfair, this car could always bring them together again.

These are the reasons why Dean was always so relaxed in this car. No matter how far they would have to drive, he was always relaxed. Even now, after fifteen hours with the occasional stop for food or a bathroom break, Dean had his window down singing along to a local station he could actually enjoy. Despite the fact that the two of them were on their way to Dubuque for a job, Dean acted as if he didn't have a care in the world. This was his home. This is where he was safe.

Sam didn't say anything. He was too busy doing research on what could be taking the children. Dean kept looking over to check his progress, but it had only been a couple of hours ago that Sam had managed to get Internet on his laptop via some cell-tower, satellite… thing. That was Sam's area of expertise. Dean was happier playing the role of the mechanic.

The song Dean had been singing ended, and the DJ was yapping about something Dean didn't care to care about. He looked over at Sam again, but he was still engulfed in his research. Dean looked back at the road as the next song was starting up.

"There's a lady who's sure all the glitters is gold, and she's buying a stairway to heaven. When she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed, with a word she can get what she came for." Dean hit the power to the stereo and shut it off.

"Sounds more like a deal with a demon to me. No way you could buy your way into heaven." Dean looked over at Sam again. He didn't say a word. "Alright Sammy, you don't start talking to me I might start fallin' asleep at the wheel. What have you found?"

Sam's eyes darted across the screen as he skimmed more lines. "Nothing good," he finally said, pushing the computer away from his face a little. "I did some research into the nature of the disappearances and they coincided with a lot of things: faeries, wendigos, ghosts, but there were other factors that just didn't add up. Like these kids disappeared in parks or their backyards, not in some mountainous forested region where wendigos live."

Dean sighed. "So you've got nothing." It was a statement, not a question.

Shaking his head, Sam turned the computer slightly so that Dean could catch a glimpse of a picture while driving. "Not exactly. This is a German woodcutting of something called Der Großmann"

Glancing at Sam's laptop, Dean managed to catch a glimpse of the woodcutting. It was a small thing, depicting a thing, faceless figure walking through dark woods. "Never heard of it."

"Me neither. So I looked it up. Der Großmann translates to the Tall Man, now known as Slender Man."

Dean's brow wrinkled as he thought about that name. He'd heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't place it. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

Sam shrugged, turning his computer to face him again. "No. But to the rest of the world, it's a video game called Slender."

"Dammit Sammy." Dean hit the steering wheel but immediately regretted it and rubbed the wheel where he'd hit. "I told you this was a bust!"

"I still don't think it is." Sam looked down at his laptop. "Listen to this. It's an account of Der Großmann man 1702. 'My child, my Lars… he is gone. Taken, from his bed. The only thing that we found was a scrap of black clothing. It feels like cotton, but it is softer… thicker. Lars came into my bedroom yesterday, screaming at the top of his lungs that "The angel is outside!" I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me some nonsense fairy story about the Tall Man. He said he went into the groves by our village and found one of my cows dead, hanging from a tree. I thought nothing of it at first… But now, he is gone. We must find Lars, and my family must leave before we are all killed. I am sorry my son… I should have listened. May God forgive me.'

"Obviously the lore is there Dean. Not to mention all of the symptoms the children exhibited before they disappeared are said to be caused by this Slender Man. And Garth believes something is there."

Dean was getting frustrated. He liked Garth… kind of, but he wasn't exactly an expert on supernatural occurrences. "Garth was in a picture talking to a kid with Mr. Fizzles. That doesn't mean something is actually going on there."

"Actually, I think I know why Garth was talking to that kid." Sam started scrolling through some information in his laptop. "It says here that only kids can see the Slender Man and they remain invisible to adults. Garth was likely talking to the kid trying to get information from him."

It was obvious that Sam believed this was a job, but Dean was still skeptical. From what Sam had told him so far, these kids disappearing just sounded like some creep trying to emulate a video game. "Why haven't we heard of this Slender Man until now? Especially if it's been around since 1702."

It looked as if Dean had Sam with that one, but Sam was adamant. "I honestly don't know. I looked for similar cases, and it looked like all instances of this type of kidnapping ceased around the 1950s." Sam paused then looked at Dean. "Until now. I have no idea what could have brought them back."

Sam clearly was not going to budge on this. Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter, driving through the black of night, the wind off the road blowing through the open window. "Alright. Then how do we kill it?"

There was a pause, a moment of silence where Sam said nothing. "That's where it gets really bad. The good news is that it seems anything can kill it. A knife, a bullet, a blow to the head. The bad news is that if we kill one, fifteen more appear anywhere in the world."

Dean looked over at Sam. "Well yeah, I'd call that bad n–."

A ding on Sam's computer interrupted Dean. Sam looked down at a window that had popped up. "Upload complete…" There was suddenly a flash of light that blinded Dean. His hand went up to cover his eyes, but the light seeped through to the point where it seemed Dean no longer had a hand. He closed his eyes, but the light was still there, accompanied by a tingling. It seemed to seep into every cell, every nerve, and as it did so the tingling increased in intensity until it became a stinging, and then a stabbing pain. Dean tried to scream, he tried to call for his brother, but the stinging swept into his throat and choked him. His entire body was in agony.

And then it stopped.

The stabbing pain, the light, they were gone. And Dean was standing. How was he standing? It took a moment, but he finally opened his eyes. In front of his eyes was his hand, but it wasn't his hand. He could feel it, he could move it, but it was all… blocky.

"Dean?" His voice was strangely muffled, like it was coming out of some old speakers, but the voice was definitely Sam's. Dean turned and in front of him stood a very block, very angular, very square version of Sam.

"Sam?"

Making odd movements, Sam looked at his hands. They were also blocky, like Deans. "I think so. What happened?"

For the first time, Dean looked around at the world they stood in. Where had the impala gone? No. Where had they gone? It was noon when before it had been midnight. There were trees where before there had been farms. But the sun, and the trees… and the world, they were all also so angular, so square. "I have no idea. But the first question we need to answer is where are we now?"

Before Sam could come up with a response, Dean heard an odd sound from behind a tree to his left. The sound could have been interpreted as foot steps in some obscure way. He spun around to face the noise and saw another blocky person. Her pixilated hair was red, and her face was unclear. Before Dean could say anything, a speech bubble appeared over this new person's head.

"'Sup bitches?"


End file.
